She reaches in and grabs right hold of your heart
by thisisnotmybeautifulhouse
Summary: Two young witches who are as alike as they are different vie for control of the Pendragon men. Set before "Ruling Him With a Smile, Rather Than an Iron Fist." For those unfamiliar with this 'verse, Merlin has always been a girl.


**The title for this comes from Genesis' _Invisible Touch_. This piece is technically a part of my _Unstoppable Force_ 'verse, wherein Merlin was born a girl and she takes immense pleasure from driving Arthur up the wall in as many ways as possible. However, this fic could probably stand alone. This is an alternate take on Morgana's return to Camelot at the start of season three, which sets it prior to _Ruling Him With a Smile, Rather Than an Iron Fist_.**

Though the search for Uther's ward had been long and treacherous, filled with her guilt over every wrong decision she'd made in the last few years and devoid of almost everything else, at least it had offered a reprieve from waiting within Camelot's walls, wondering when the next dreadful thing would strike. Now that Morgana was back, Merlin felt as though she might burst from the tension building within her.

For what must be the hundredth time this evening, Merlin caught Morgana staring at her from across the room, a self-satisfied expression marring her picturesque features. Every glint of her eye claimed, _You see how helpless you are? I have them wrapped around my finger, and there is nothing you can do to change that._ Refusing to rise to the bait, she ran her free hand down the side of the latest in a series of tunics she had repurposed. The familiar feeling of Arthur's slightly faded red shirt centered her, and she raised her chin in open defiance. _Do your worst, Morgana. You can't scare me that easily._

Cold green eyes narrowed as if in answer to Merlin's unspoken challenge.

An infectious beat emanated from the group of musicians gathered in the corner of the hall, echoing off the walls and dancing within her veins. The thought of resisting the siren call of the music was instantly dismissed. She felt her hips begin to sway and her blood begin to race in time to the rapidly swelling cadence, heightened by her anger and frustration. The corners of her lips turned up in an unconsciously sensual half grin, and she turned to hand the pitcher she had until now been holding in readiness to a passing servant.

By the time she reached adolescence in Ealdor, she'd earned a bit of a reputation for the wild streak which always surfaced in the face of an irresistable tune. She believed it was the nature of her magic, answering the call of the foreign, yet equally powerful force. Making eye-contact with her prince, she deliberately released her hair from its intricate plait, and let her body voice all the things she typically tried to suppress.

If the king absolutely insisted upon having a feast in honor of Morgana's "safe return" - _well_.

Merlin was determined to enjoy herself.

One by one, several of the servants who had been lining the walls surrendered to the sounds of drum and flute and lyre. The nobles watched their inferiors with a disdain affected in order to conceal their envy, and the guards made motions to dispel the revelry. Uther waved them away, content in what he considered a celebratory display for his ward.

Morgana's nostrils flared and her lips thinned, because this was no celebration on Merlin's part.

It was a declaration of war.

All the while, Merlin focused all her attention on the crown prince, watching with satisfaction as his eyes darkened and his face took on a rosy hue which had nothing to do with the scant amount of wine he had recently imbibed.

_You may have Uther, but Arthur is_ mine, _Morgana. See how he looks at me? See how he cannot see anyone else? You have no power over him._

Convincing Arthur to go straight to sleep that night presented more difficulties than she had anticipated. After watching her behave so unreservedly, he had done everything he could to remedy his soberness, in an effort to stave off his desire. Now, he clung to her and placed hot, open-mouthed kisses along her neck and collarbone, even as she wrestled him into a nightshirt and manhandled him under his covers. As he blinked up at her in hazy ardor, she ran slender fingers through his already mussed hair.

"Stay with me?" he slurred softly, voice rendered vulnerable and quiet by wine and exhaustion.

She felt twin tugs in her heart and belly, and it was all so overwhelming that she nearly caved. Instead, she promised him, "Someday," and went to blow out the candles around the room. At the door, she glanced back and felt her lips slide into a tender smile. Arthur had shifted around a large pillow, and had begun nuzzling it in his sleep.

The image stayed with her all the way through the corridors and during her own nightly preparations. _That_was what she was fighting for, what she would use to strengthen her resolve against whatever plans Morgana may have.

For the first time in the days since their search party's return to Camelot, Merlin felt hope.


End file.
